Saturday, December 15, 2007

[independent boys] know when they're not wanted

Looks frightening for the parents:
When Connor Wilson was turned away from after-school care because his name wasn't on the list, he took matters into his own hands and decided to walk home - all 15km. Police found the six-year-old walking along Geelong's busiest road, the Princes Highway, more than 6km into his journey to his Whittington home.
Quite apart from the issue of the inadequate care provided and the mother's possible guilt as well, I'd like to focus instead on the resilience of the child - of any child that age.

I remember such situations well:

Age 4 - I'd pick up my raffia case with cut lunch [not being up to preparing my own sandwiches at that stage] and would nip round the corner to my girlfriend's place, collect her and walk her to kinder, just under a kiklometre away. There was only one dangerous corner but I'd been trained for that. Naturally, I had no idea who was observing - I just thought it was my job.

Age 8 - We were in the High Street, doing Christmas shopping. In one store, maybe Woolworths, my mother told me to wait by the "snack bar" for her, while she went to get something further into the store. So, I went looking for "a" snack bar, not realizing I was actually beside "the" snack bar she was referring to.

Not having any luck here, I went outside onto the footpath and asked a lady if she knew where "a" snack bar was. To think that my choice of the indefinite article could have been the catalyst of all the troubles.

She did know where "a" snack bar was. It was about a hundred metres further down the street and it had a big sign "snack bar".

No problems.

Down I went and waited dutifully beneath the sign until my mother found me, distraught - she was distraught, not me - I was more concerned with what had gone wrong with my mum.

Age 11 - Don't know if I should mention this one. My father took me to the football but because for some strange reason, I had a membership card and he didn't, he explained in detail where I'd go in and he'd watch me in, then I had to turn left and follow the tunnelway to the barrier, where he'd be waiting.

No problems.

I went in but there were two tunnelways, so I took the one that looked as if it would lead to a mesh fence and it did. However, he didn't appear. I waited for half an hour but as the game was about to start, I gave it away, determined to go looking for him at halftime.

I managed a spot down by the touchline and had a good first half. Now it was time to find him. I asked officials about the layout of the ground, about where he probably would have come into the ground if I'd come in where I had and so on.

No luck. My dad had got lost.

OK, well there was a damn good game on, so I settled down for the second half and it was well worth the money I'd never paid. Now it was time to find him - I'd have to pull out all stops in this endeavour but the huge crowd pouring out of the ground made it difficult.

I went round that ground three times and was getting tired so thought it best to ask a friendly policeman if he'd seen a stray father. Nope but the policeman now had some questions for me I don't remember.

The upshot was that they took me to the station and when I saw one of their guns, the desk sergeant let me check it over. I'd given my address and phone number already and so they now reported that all was well. My father had been found and was safely at home.

The biggest problem was calming my mother down on the phone but once that was done, it was into the car and they even gave a blast of the siren for effect and we stopped off at a chippy and had supper. I still remember the fun that evening.

Then the boys in blue delivered me home - door to door, mind - no walking at all and my mother embarrassed me by embracing me in front of them. Don't remember much else.

So I understand wee Connor completely - it's what any boy would do under the circumstances. They don't want me? OK, I go home. No money? Well, nothing to be done - I'll just have to walk.

You have to like young Connor very much. Check out the photo - is he in tears or is he angry?

4 comments:

  1. Great stories James. Why is a six year old going to a school 15 km from his home? Amazing that he actually went in the right direction to his home.

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  2. Well, awful irresponsibility by both sets of people who should have been caring for him, of course. Enjoyed your tales. Now we know you were always chivalrous and headmasterly! You must have given your Mum a terrible fright in that last story!

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  3. Connor looks quite like my youngest at around the same age and from the expression on his face I think I wouldn't much have liked to have been his ma when he reached home that day, even though it's bound to be a photo taken after the event. More the after-hours care people's fault than the parents' because regardless of how the mix-up occurred the child was stood right in front of them and they shouldn't have let him go.

    I liked reading your childhood recollections.

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  4. Ladies - chivalry requires such as you for a catalyst.

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